Theory
by SoTotallyOsm
Summary: How it went from 'a talk on the beach' to this, he didn't know. ClayxDesmond, 1617.


A/N: Don't own AC. Blah blah. This was a request from 4chan. Man on Man action. No like, no read.

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><p>Desmond stares out at the programmed sea, watching the small waves wash up onto the sand. The programming was realistic, he thought to himself. Even the sand gave way once the water washed over it. It made him wish he were at a real beach, but then again none would be nearly this perfect.<p>

Footsteps sounded from behind him, but Desmond didn't move to check. There was only one other person on the island besides him and that would be Sixteen.

"What are you doing?" The slight accent was familiar now that he'd heard it so much.

"Nothing." Desmond kept looking out at the water, knees pulled to his chest as the programmed wind ruffled his hair slightly. It was nice here. A little too nice. But it was lonely. He missed the real world, he really did.

"Not thinking about drowning yourself, are you?" Clay gave a roll of his eyes as he sat next to the younger man. He stretches his legs out on the sand and slumped his shoulders as he looked over at him.

"Don't think I could anyways." A sigh. The air didn't have that familiar salty scent. Guess they were lacking in that realistic department. Then again, this was basic programming for the island. "Would I just end up back here if I did?" A curious glance to the other man.

"I dunno. I haven't tried it." The blonde shrugged his shoulders. The times like this between Desmond running off to view Ezio's memories were nice. For him, at least. It'd been a while since he talked to someone.

"I don't think I want to. I'm fine right here." Desmond wrapped his arms around his knees and propped his chin on top of them, all in all looking bored. Maybe he should finish those memories before the Animus tries to delete him again.

"Are you sure?" Clay gave him an incredulous look. "That you're fine here, that is." It seemed to be a simple question, but Desmond could feel the serious stare he was getting from him.

"..." He didn't respond for a moment. Another small sigh. He licked his lips idly before speaking up, "Yes and no. I like it here, but I want to wake up. Even though I know Templars are searching for us and all the stress that comes with going back... I don't want them to worry, you know? But it's nice here. Peaceful. But it's lonely. Do you get lonely?" Desmond turned his head a bit to look at Clay from the corner of his eye.

Sixteen sat there for a while and looked up at the clouds. "Maybe." Damn it all. He asked a yes or no question and he still gets vague answers from the man. "What's it matter to you, Des?" There was that creepy stare again.

"Just wondering, geez." The darker haired man shrugged and rolled his eyes. "I mean... You're just programmed here right? How does that work?"

"Don't think too hard on it, Dezzy boy. You might pop a cog loose in there." The blonde snickered, giving the other a playful shove to his shoulder. "I manage."

Desmond glared over at him and shoved him back with a huff. "You're such an asshole sometimes, you know that?" A frown. Why couldn't he ever give him a straight answer? Always vague or riddled in a way it hurt too much to figure out.

"And you're such a girl, brooding over here over your prom break-up." Clay fanned his hand nonchalantly, earning another push from Desmond. He chuckled, moving to sit on his knees much closer to the man. "It works. But it's not 100% effective." A hand was pressed to Desmond's cheek, patting him there a few times.

"What- I am not!" Brown eyes glared harshly, brows furrowing and lips pursed into a thin line. Really? Going to kick him while he's down, is he? "Hn?" A pause, blinking as the hand patted his face. He scowled and swatted the hand away. "Quit that. What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that I can feel, but not completely feel. I can feel lonely, but I can't feel the empty hollow feeling that comes with feeling lonely. I can touch you, but I can't really feel you." He pulled his hand away, moving to sit back on his feet and look away with a bored expression. "Think of it like the memory of feeling. It's there, but it's not. Understand?"

Desmond stared at him with a mix of confusion and curiosity. He supposed even the master of programming couldn't make something that real. He wondered if it was really Sixteen talking to him and not just automated responses that use some sort of smart technology. It was hard to decide. He'd just pretend it was really him anyways. It was easier that way. "So, uh... This?" He lifted his hand to place on Clay's arm. Curiosity flashed in his eyes as he waited for a reaction. He hadn't really interacted all too closely with Clay before. Maybe here and there sometimes.

"... Yes, Des. I can feel that." A roll of the eyes, hinting at sarcasm. A hand brushed the hand off of his arm, though he crossed his arms over the top of his knees and stared at Desmond with a small smirk.

With his hand being pushed away, the American just grumbled to himself and looked away from the unsettling stare. He always stared at him. It was really weird sometimes. "What?" Still, he felt kind of lonely and Clay was the only other person there. Was he capable of feeling comfort? He didn't see why not. If he would was the question, though.

"You're giving me a strange look yourself. What are you thinking?" Clay raised an eyebrow, lips quirking to the side in what could be amusement.

"Just thinking..." He moved and let his legs sprawl out in front of him. He rolled onto his side and leaned his chest against the older man's legs. This earned him a wary look. Desmond idly wondered if it was a look of distrust.

"Apparently your favorite past-time. Care to enlighten me?" He had to move his arms from atop his knees to rest beside him, or else the other would smoosh them.

"Hmm... Maybe. If you tell me what you're thinking." The request kind of spilled from his mouth. He hadn't really thought about it, and now he was thinking about what the other would say. His chin rested on the other's knees as he rolled over onto his front and wrapped his arms around the blonde's legs to support himself. Perhaps he was invading his personal space too much?

"I... Why?" The wary look was back. Why was he dodging his question with this? A trade? Hm. It couldn't hurt, he supposed. "Fine. I'm thinking about..." His eyes caught darker ones for a moment before looking off to the side at the sea. "... Why you're getting so close." Another glance, this time more confused. Desmond always avoided him, so this was something different for once.

"Oh. This?" Desmond gave a small smile. He lifted his right hand and brushed his fingertips against the blonde's jaw. However, Clay immediately flinched away from the touch and gave him a confused stare. "I'm just testing your theory. You haven't had anyone touch you since you programmed yourself into the Animus. Are you scared of being touched?" He tried again, fingers brushing higher to dip cropped dirty blonde behind the other's ear.

He didn't know what was going on. This wasn't something he ever expected from the darker man. No, there had to be a reason. There was always a reason! "Why are you doing this?" His voice nearly cracked as the fingers worked past his ear and into his hair. His body tensed, and he swore if he moved he'd break.

"I just told you. Geez, are you going deaf?" Knees slid across the sand so he could push himself up into a sitting position. He leaned forward and noted the tense, defensive posture of the blonde. A frown. "... Relax man. I'm not going to hurt you."

But Clay was sure he had other reasons. An ulterior motive, perhaps? But why would he? Certainly not. No, that was impossible. Not going to hurt him? Ha! He wanted to laugh in the man's face, but instead he gave an awkward chuckle. "You think you can hurt me? I'd like to see you try." It was almost a threat. Almost. But would he take the bait?

To Desmond it sounded like he was trying to prove something to himself. He furrowed his brows again and chewed the inside of his lip. Did he want him to really try? He could never tell when Sixteen was serious or not. Even so, he wouldn't do something like that. Not unless he /really/ pissed him off. Which he does do sometimes with his incessant talking in riddles and that creepy staring when he thinks he's not paying attention.

"I said I'm not going to. Stop acting like I'm going to punch you." Sometimes he really wanted to though.

A murmur, almost too low for him to catch. But he'd seen his lips move as he said it, "... It's different."

"What is?" Desmond nudged at the other's legs and they willingly slid apart so he could scoot closer to him. He leaned in closer, eyes searching and trying to find something. Something he wasn't sure about. What was he looking for?

"Why? You shouldn't be engaging with me." Even though he followed the man around restlessly, stared and watched everything he did, and tried to talk to him when he knew he could. He wanted to be close, but he didn't at the same time. Who would want to be close to him? He was bat shit insane. Desmond knew this, he knew it. He left those symbols, those messages on his bedroom wall back at Abstergo, for a reason. So Desmond could see them. He knew he was crazy. Why would he ever want to get close?

"Maybe I want to," was the response he got. It made his brain rush with questions, arguments. He wondered if it was obvious he was thinking too much on the subject as that hand ran through his hair. He sighed. It did feel nice, though...

Clay looked like he was going to go into one of his little fits. The ones where he spouts random information at him; jumbled words from different languages, numeric sequences he couldn't understand, and he would just mutter things to himself. It was hard to see him like that, and Desmond honestly hoped he would never break like Sixteen did.

Desmond reached up and threaded both hands through the man's short hair. He pressed their foreheads together and he stared at him. Their eyes locked as Sixteen's breath was becoming erratic. No doubt from getting worked up over whatever he was thinking about. Besides, he knew they were both lonely. Even before his coma, Des had been lonely. And even more so with his depression after Lucy was gone. He just needed... something. So he kissed him.

His thoughts were going like a time lapse of rush-hour traffic. When he could focus on one thought it was quickly shoved aside by a new one, and on-and-on-and-on. The faint feeling of a forehead on his and his eyes were on darker ones. It was easy to just stare as he thought. Then his thoughts were slowly trickling slower. And those thoughts were changing from whys to what-ifs. Lips on his cut off all traffic of thought immediately. He just stared.

After an awkward couple of seconds, Desmond was wondering if Clay was alright. Maybe he didn't swing that way? Well neither did he, really. It was just impulse. It wasn't bad nor was it really good. It was just lips on lips. He leaned back and gave an awkward cough. "Uh... Sorry." A meek apology. Hands drop from the other's hair as he moved away.

But everything was a downhill slope from there, the blonde reaching forward and grabbed the front of Desmond's hoodie and pulling him back in for another lip lock. It wasn't any better than before, just a clashing of teeth and desperation. It was a mutual feeling between them and they fed off of each other's desire to just be wanted.

Seconds turned to minutes as lips moved with each other, eventually pushing past the initial barrier of teeth to let their tongues mingle. It was so strange for both of them, but at the same time it felt so right. It was a bit cheesy how they both thought that. Desmond found that if he sucked on the other's tongue he could get some sort of groan from him.

And so the dark haired assassin's thoughts were plagued about the theory he'd proposed. Did that mean he could barely feel what they were doing? He could swear he felt a little too hot in his hoodie after their lips broke from each other. He panted, licking the trace amounts of saliva from his lower lip. Clay was giving him one of those creepy stares again.

"H-hey! What do you think you're- stop that!" Desmond's breath hitched as a hand went up under his hoodie and shirt to rub fingers against a nipple. Scarlet spread across the bridge of his nose as he gasped and tried to squirm away.

"Relax. I'm not going to- to hurt you." His fingers brushed and teased, eyes locked onto Seventeen's and reveling in the reactions it brought. He'd never seen him blush before, except when he got embarrassed. No, this was... different.

His breaths were definitely coming out erratic now, the teasing sending sparks through his veins and stirring something low in his gut. He really didn't want to think about that though. There was no way. "W-what the hell..."

Clay's lips were on his once more, tongue delving between scarred flesh to explore the heat behind it. Desmond had to sift his fingers through the blonde's hair again and grip it to keep himself steady and he pulled his legs out from under himself. He didn't have much of a choice as to where to put them as the older man climbed onto his lap to straddle him.

Lips parted for a breather, both of them panting and swallowing hard. It'd been too long for either of them. Way too long.

"I think... I like where this is going." A mischievous grin caused Desmond to open his mouth to protest, but a tongue was shoved down his throat again.

Fine. If he was going to be that way, two could play this game. The younger man dropped his hands to denim-covered cheeks and pulled the man flush against him. Tongues fought for dominance but Sixteen seemed to win any tongue wrestling they did. Without really thinking, Clay rocked his hips forward on Desmond's lap as he pinched at the nub between his fingers.

Desmond was keening under him all of a sudden with the attention he was receiving, giving a low whine as the other's tongue still swirled around his and leaving him breathless. How it went from 'a talk on the beach' to this, he didn't really know. But he wasn't really complaining, either. The rocking motion caught him off guard. He gave a groan into Clay's mouth and pulled him forward by his ass again. Damn, that felt too good.

If his thoughts were crazy before, they were insane by now. How could he be thinking about so much and so little at once? It felt like his head would burst, but perhaps that was the blood rushing around and tinting his cheeks. Sixteen rocked his hips forward once more, enjoying the sound it had elicited before and let his free hand slide between them to knead at both their crotches.

"A-ah..." Why did this have to happen? Why did he have to go and provoke the mad man? He didn't really expect for this to happen. But now what? Just let him molest him? ... They were in the Animus for crying out loud! They were practically just computer programs. This shouldn't even be possible.

Clay didn't care, however, as he reasoned to himself that he'd waited too long for someone to come along and keep him company. And even though he never intended for this sort of thing to happen when he first met the bartender, he wasn't exactly taking back any of his actions nor would he apologize. Again, he rutted against the man beneath him and gave a pleased sigh of his own. Too damn long...

"C-Clay- ahh..." Most rational thought left him as fingers groped his growing arousal and felt the steady pooling of heat in his gut. His thoughts were getting foggy and he could care less about being just programs in the Animus right about now.

"Mm... Say it again." That voice, so thick and sultry like he'd never imagined it could be, murmured into Desmond's ear as teeth bit and pulled at the shell. The sound of his name gracing those scarred lips left him wanting more. Much, much more. He wanted to hear more of it.

"Wha-" Even if he wanted to, the feeling of the blonde's tongue traveling down his neck was too distracting. Desmond lolled his head back and allowed his eyes to flutter half closed. My, the clouds looked lovely today. Oh, and the sound of the ocean gently lapping a few feet to their left was nice as well.

Sixteen lifted himself off of the younger so he could tug down the zippers on both of their jeans. Maybe he was going a bit fast, but he didn't care. His hand pulled his own pants and boxers down below his ass, trying to do the same to Desmond's but he had a bit of trouble in doing so. So instead he just tugged the front open further and tentatively drew the half-hard member from the confines of his pants.

Desmond gave a breathy sigh when Clay's hand traveled into his pants. He had to move his hands so the blonde could pull his own pants down and he resettled them on bare flesh once he was done. It was so... weird. But nice? He supposed so. Didn't really matter when his mind was this cloudy.

It didn't take long for Clay to resume rutting against him, taking his hand to wrap around both of their lengths and slide a finger between them. He ground his hips against Desmond's, groaning into his neck where he bit and sucked until blueish purple bruises loitered the darker skin.

Oh, how his skin was on fire. The gentle breeze from the ocean had him shiver, arching into the man's mouth and panting as sensitive flesh rubbed sensitive flesh. He was going to go crazy at this rate. The familiar heat pooled and it wouldn't take many more ruts between them to get him fully hard.

It appeared that Desmond was more responsive than he was, the fact that these sensations were filtered through a fog floated in his mind but it was dismissed. None-the-less, it didn't take much longer for both of them to be fully erect and demanding attention. Clay gave a healthy stroke for both of them, pressing them together as the finger between their lengths added an extra bit of pressure that made Clay twitch and moan.

Shit, shit, shit. When was the last time he was allowed to get off? Before his coma, obviously. But even then he didn't get off very often. Cameras everywhere, you know. It was embarrassing when the shower drain clogged from his few private sessions, so he did it even less after that incident. And shit, the way the blonde jacked them off together felt so damn /good/. "Nnnh... Cla-ay... F-faster." His voice was starting to break too.

"Fuck, D-Des..." Hands tightened their grip on his ass, pulling him forward each time he rocked his hips. He continued stroking them, going at a slightly faster pace upon request, thumb sliding across both heads as his hand raised.

Oh no. The heat pooling at his stomach was slowly going lower and he could tell he was getting closer by the second. They hadn't even gotten started and he already felt like he was going to explode. Desmond sighed, tilting his head away to get the blonde's attention. And once he had it, he pressed his lips to his once more and began the battle of dominance between their tongues. Surprisingly, Desmond won this round.

Clay didn't slow his pace at all, too caught up in the moment to stop and wait it out. No, he wanted that bliss now. Even if it came too soon, he needed it and he needed it now. His other hand pinched and pressed against the younger man's nipple while the hand between them started pumping faster. Both of them moaned into the kiss they shared, the sound of skin slick on skin muffled between them slightly.

"C-Clay... U-nnnh.." Desmond jerked his hips up into the hand stroking them together, moaning the man's name as he released. He panted heavily, forehead pressed to the other's as their kiss was broken. His orgasm was forcefully ridden out as Clay continued giving fast, fluent strokes until he came as well. However, the blonde had bitten his lip to muffle the moan. So much for his nice, clean hoodie...

The two stayed caught up in the aftermath for a few minutes before Desmond allowed himself to fall back into the sand, sweating and reaching up to run a hand through his short hair. Clay took the time to fix both of them and zip their pants up once again before plopping down on top of Desmond.

They didn't say anything for the longest time. Who knew how much time had passed, the island didn't exactly have a night and day. The breeze blew once more which earned a sigh from them both. Lazy kisses were exchanged and Desmond wrapped his arms loosely around Sixteen's waist.

"So. Does this mean I get to come with you when you finish the Synch Nexus?" The blonde gave a hopeful look, blinking down at him curiously.

"Hell to the fucking no." Though they both chuckled. Perhaps his mind would change on the matter some other time. They had plenty of time to themselves, after all.


End file.
